Chapter 3

The laughter around me grew louder. My forced smile felt like a crack in a dam, holding back a flood of tears.

Demian finally stepped forward, placing a hand on Finley' s shoulder. "Alright, that' s enough. Leave her alone." His voice was calm, authoritative. He was managing the scene, not protecting me.

The party host, a guy named Mark, clapped his hands. "Okay, okay, let' s play a game! Truth or Dare!"

The focus shifted, and I felt a small wave of relief. People gathered in a circle, and the game began.

A few rounds in, the bottle spun and landed on Finley. "Truth or dare, Finley?"

"Dare!" she chirped, always the center of attention.

"I dare you to get Demian to carry you piggyback around the pool three times!" a girl shouted.

Finley giggled and looked at Demian with wide, pleading eyes. "Demian, will you help me?"

"Of course," he said instantly, his voice warm. He crouched down, and she jumped onto his back. He carried her around the pool, the crowd cheering him on, complimenting his strength.

I turned away, my stomach twisting. I couldn' t watch.

Then the bottle spun again. It landed on me.

"Truth or dare, Finley Brooks?"

My throat was dry. "Truth."

"Lame!" someone yelled. "It' s graduation! Dare!"

The pressure was immense. "Fine," I whispered. "Dare."

A cruel smile spread across the face of one of Finley' s friends. "I dare you to either drink this entire bottle of vodka or kiss the guy you came with."

All eyes turned to me. They knew I came alone. They knew I didn' t drink. It was a trap.

I looked at Demian, a silent plea in my eyes. Just one word from him, a simple act of claiming me, would end this.

He met my gaze for a split second, then deliberately looked away, staring at the pool as if he hadn' t seen me at all.

"I' m not a part of this," he announced to the crowd, his voice cold and distant. "She can handle it herself."

The words hit me harder than a slap. Publicly, in front of everyone, he had disowned me. The humiliation was a physical thing, a hot, suffocating blanket.

My choice was made for me. I picked up the bottle of vodka. With shaking hands, I brought it to my lips and started to drink. The liquor burned my throat, my eyes watering.

The world started to spin. The faces around me blurred. I finished the bottle, slammed it down on the table, and stumbled away from the circle.

I fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes red-rimmed. A stranger stared back at me, a pathetic, foolish girl.

"It' s okay," I whispered to my reflection. "You' re getting out. Soon."

I decided right then. I was done. I left the party without saying goodbye to anyone and got on the first bus heading home.

On the ride, I pulled out my phone. I scrolled through two years of messages from Demian. Thousands of them. "Good morning, beautiful." "Thinking of you." "Can' t wait to see you."

I looked at the photos he' d sent, pictures of his smile, pictures of us in the rare moments we could be alone. It all felt like a lie now.

With a final, decisive tap, I deleted everything. His contact, the chat history, the photos. I wiped him from my digital life.

When I got home, the house was dark. But as I opened the door, my father was waiting in the living room. He stood up, his face a mask of fury.

"Where have you been?" he roared, and before I could answer, his hand flew out and struck my face. The force of it sent me stumbling back against the wall.

My mother and Finley appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Finley had a smug, satisfied look on her face. My mother just looked disappointed.

"Your sister said you got drunk at a party and made a fool of yourself!" my father yelled.

"I didn' t..." I started to explain, but Finley cut me off.

"Dad, she did! She was all over some guy, and when he rejected her, she drank a whole bottle of vodka. It was so embarrassing."

"Look at you!" my mother said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Why can' t you be more like your sister? Finley is smart, popular, and knows how to behave. You just bring shame to this family."

I saw them then, standing together. A perfect family unit. My father, my mother, my sister. I was the outsider.

I noticed a travel brochure on the coffee table. A family trip to Hawaii. A graduation present. My name wasn' t on the booking.

"You' re not going," my mother said, following my gaze. "You need to stay here and reflect on your behavior."

It was always like this. I remembered my tenth birthday. We were supposed to go to Disneyland. But Finley fell and scraped her knee, and my parents cancelled the trip to stay home and comfort her. They bought her a new dollhouse to make her feel better. I got nothing.

"Get to your room," my father snarled, taking a threatening step toward me.

I retreated, locking my bedroom door behind me. I sank to the floor, the pain in my cheek a dull throb compared to the ache in my heart.

Just then, my laptop pinged. It was an email.

Dear Ms. Finley Brooks, Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you early admission to the Crestwood Institute for Advanced Research...

Crestwood. A prestigious, secluded university thousands of miles away. A place known for its rigorous program and for isolating its students from the outside world. A place to escape.

For the first time all night, a real smile touched my lips. This was my chance. This was my way out.